Photo Booth
by oxygenmask
Summary: What happens when someone takes your biggest secret and shares it with the entire world? Get ready for senior year, kids. CAM CarlyxSam


Photo Booth

I throw the red fabric open and shove Sam inside the tiny box. "Jeez Carls, way to break my skull," Sam groans as she rubs her head.

"Oh hush, you know I love these things!" I grin and shut the curtain. And it's true. I do love these things. There's something charming about photo booths, and if anyone should know anything about me, it is that I am a bonafide romantic. In other words: a complete and utter girly-girl. "Wow, this baby is old," I look around as Sam downs the last of her candy.

"No kidding. Is this even going to work?" she asks with a mouthful of pink Jelly Bellies. Sam looks at me and I can't help but notice how her eyes seem to radiate under the low light. There they are again, those darn butterflies.

It wasn't too long ago when I finally came to terms with the fact that I am irrevocably and indisputably in love with my best friend. It was the week before summer break and we were sitting in art class. I just couldn't stop looking at her. It wasn't out of the ordinary because sometimes I have the tendency to just stare at people when I'm thinking, and since Sam is always around me, I'm usually staring at her. But this time it was like something in my head finally clicked, a switch that I never knew was there. I subconsciously moved to the other side of the table and when I finally snapped to, I had my acrylic-covered hands on her face.

Sam took that as permission to start a paint fight. We got two days of detention.

These feelings aren't new. This how I've always felt around Sam. The way my heart jumps when I see her name on my cell, or how I try to memorize the freckles on her nose, or how when she gets excited she lisps and it never fails to make me smile. I never thought that I could be falling for her because I just never thought of girls as being more than friends. It scares me to death; I don't know what I would do if she found out and hated me for it. Of course, I'm ninety-nine percent sure that she won't hate me. Best friends of nine and a half years wouldn't do that. But…it's that one percent that keeps me from telling her.

So all I can do for now is just smile. Just grin and bear it, Carly Shay. "Well, there's only one way to find out." I pull out my last three dollars, inserting it into the machine, enough for one set of pictures so both of us can have a copy. I notice in the camera mirror that my face is horribly flushed. It must be because it's warm out, I tell myself. It's this humid August weather.

Or, it could be because we're scantily clad in shorts and tank tops, pressed up next to each other in a miniature cubicle. I move my leg slightly and my thigh was sticking to hers. Oh, gross.

"Man, _that's_ lovely," Sam drawls with raised eyebrows. She is so close that I can smell the jellybeans on her breath. Cotton candy. I feel that unholy urge to kiss her, just to see if she tasted like food. "Ready?"

"I was _born_ ready." She looks at me with that quirky smile of hers and presses the little red button. The buzzer sounds. We immediately pucker our lips and suck in our cheeks like fish. _Flash_. That one was definitely a practice shot.

"Strike a pose!" I sing and we use our hands to frame each other's face, trying to duplicate Madonna as best as we could. _Flash_. We giggle like the high school girls we are.

"Godzilla!" Sam yells and we imitate terror-stricken Japanese people. _Flash_. That was a good one.

"Smile!" I say and we both face the camera. It's the last frame of the first strip, so I close my eyes and turn to give her a surprise kiss on the cheek.

Only instead of her cheek, my lips capture hers. _Flash_.

Out of surprise, I bite her lip and she makes this deep, throaty moan and I couldn't help but think of doing some very improper things to her, just to hear her make that sound again. It takes all my willpower to stop myself from shoving my hand up the front of her top.

I hear the camera whirring and I realize what I'm doing. I jerk back and bang my head against the wall. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat and I'm all light-headed and I look at Sam in probably the most unattractive face I've ever made because she's _laughing_.

"God, I'm sorry—"

"Carly—Carly, it's _okay_," she cuts me off.

"No, it's not! I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to end up like that." I'm breathing heavily now and I can't believe we actually like, _kissed_. And I can't believe I bit her lip and got _turned on_ by it.

"Dude, no biggie! I didn't know you were turning your head either, so it's cool." Oh Sam. Thank God you're so naïve. "But seriously Carls? You're one hell of a kinky kisser."

I start choking and she just snickers and shoves me out of the booth. I'm sure people are staring as we come out because my hair is matted to my face with sweat, Sam's bra needs adjusting (it was from moving around so much, my hands didn't get lucky) and we are red all over. Luckily our pictures are already printed and dried. I pick the paper up from the dispenser and Sam rests her chin on my shoulder, looking at the strip with me.

The first three were just ridiculous and amazing, and despite us being all sweaty, we looked pretty good. The last frame was kind of embarrassing; it looked like we were really going at it and our red faces we just helping that speculation. "Oh baby. That's hot," Sam smirks as she looks at the pictures and I am compelled to agree silently, it was pretty—wait.

"Oh no…" I frantically search the dispenser, under the machine and all around the ground. Where the _hell_ is it?

"What's with the big freak-out, cupcake?"

"There's only one copy." I can already feel my throat drying up as I hand Sam the single sheet. I need a bottle of water.

"Wait…there's only _one_? As in, we are _missing_ a copy of this?" I nod, not trusting my voice, and Sam's eyes widen.

Someone stole the other print.

"Okay, hold on a minute. Maybe…maybe it just didn't print a second one," Sam reassures me and I try to regulate my breathing. "Let's just—let's wait here for a minute and wait for someone else to use it." She saunters over to a vending machine a few feet away.

"Why would someone steal a picture of us?" I wonder out loud with a cracking voice, watching Sam bend down to pick up the drink. She certainly doesn't seem upset at the possibility that someone has a rather incriminating photo of us, but then again very few things have the ability to trouble her.

"Hey, we don't have proof someone _stole_ anything. Odds are, the machine is a jank POS and only printed one copy," Sam gives me a half-hearted grin. "Now, cheer up, Carls." I barely catch the bottle she tossed to me; I never had good hand-eye coordination.

It's early in the evening and cloudy as always, but it's still outlandishly humid because it's Washington. Especially here at the Puyallup Fair. Tens of thousands of sweaty people gathered together in the most humid place in the United States. You can't even _imagine_ what it's like.

We've been here for a good five hours already and everything is starting to light up. We hit everything in the order we always do things: rides, food, games. Sam loves those dangerously unstable coasters and I don't, but I ride them anyway because watching her really smile is worth the bad hair and nauseating dizziness. Sam has an iron stomach and I'm not as lucky.

Fair food is amazing because everything has too many calories and trans fat and sodium, which is the ultimate recipe for deliciousness. Sam always complains they never sell whole hams, but we probably wouldn't be able to afford one anyway.

The games are probably my favorite part because there are fewer people in this part of the grounds so I feel a little less claustrophobic. It's just Sam and me hanging out, challenging each other booth after booth. The only game I can beat her in is the one where you have to shoot water at a target and get the car to reach the top first. I always feel good playing that one because even if it's only once, I can win something for Sam.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a couple of young girls jump into the booth we were in. A few minutes pass and I watch carefully as the girls get out and giggle in anticipation while their pictures are being printed. They're cute, if not a little annoying and I wonder if Sam and I were like that when we were younger. They squeal as paper deposits into the dispenser.

They get two copies. I turn to Sam and she has that look on her face. The one she makes whenever she finds out we're out of ham so I grab her hand and say:

"Let's go home." I'm not sure what else to do because I'm tired and I'm sure she is too.

We pass by the rides on our way to the gate and those machines that looked so ugly and dangerous in the daylight were now dazzling against the dark sky.

______________

The sky is pitch black by the time we reach Seattle. As soon as we get back to the apartment I head to the shower to get all the grime off and Sam is already raiding the fridge. Spencer's out with Socko so we have the place to ourselves tonight.

I'm in my room drying off, still yet to be dressed, and I stare at the reflection in my mirror. I have the curves of a fourteen-year-old girl. Everyone in my family is tall and thin, and I'm no exception. There have been rumors around school that I have anorexia nervosa, and although I'm not quite _that_ skinny, it wouldn't kill me to gain some weight. And I think I look weird because I still have a round face, even with all the baby fat gone. I poke at my thighs and frown. Spencer doesn't want me to tan because he thinks I'm going to get cancer (a valid reason, but still not fair) so I'm deathly pale and I look like a ghost. A tall, skinny ghost. I should've been named Casper Shay.

I search through my dresser to find my favorite plaid pajama shorts. I pull out another pair for Sam since she's spending the night again and she never brings clothes with her. She's going to complain because I don't have any clean pants and all my shorts are _really_ short. She doesn't like showing off her legs.

Of course, _I_ won't be complaining. I would kill to look like Sam. She actually _has_ curves, which she complains about every day and tells me how lucky I am I don't have any. It's funny how we envy each other's body. Although I think I'd much rather be—

"Fucking ass mother fucker!" I can hear shouting from the floor below breaking my train of thought. Yeah, that's Sam.

I hear footsteps and Sam throws the door open and I barely get a shirt over my head. Not like she's never seen me naked before, but still. "Sam, _language_," I reprimand her since Spencer isn't here to do it.

"Look at this," she hisses and her face is burning. I look at the picture on my PearPhone and Oh Dear God.

It's the picture of us. Kissing.

"It's from _Nevel_." I can feel dread in the pit of my stomach.

Nevel Papperman. Boy genius, hell bent on destroying iCarly while at the same time trying to win my heart. You don't have to have a PhD in Psychology to see he has serious issues.

As if on cue, the phone starts vibrating and it's _him_. I stare at the device like it's toxic and Sam is the one who puts it on speaker.

"Hello, Carly. I trust Samantha is there with—"

"_Fuck_ you, Papperman."

"Vulgarity is no way to win my heart, _dear_." His voice sounds deep and so very different; I might've thought someone else was speaking if it wasn't for the perfect annunciation and flamboyant accent. It's been over a year since our last run-in so I shouldn't be surprised at the change, but I am. Sam is seething and I have to say something before she breaks my phone.

"What are you doing, Nevel?" I try to keep cool because I remember it used to annoy him.

I hear a chuckle. "What kind of villain would I be if I told you my secret plans?" Before either of us have a chance to respond, he goes on. "Well, just to entertain you two ladies, I'll have you know I met someone very…interesting from Ridgeway. I believe you may know her."

Sam and I look at each other in confusion. "Who? And what does she have to do with stealing our picture?"

He ignores my questions. "She feels a little bit of…contempt…towards you two. Specifically you, Carly."

Well, that doesn't make me any less confused. "Nevel, I don't know what you're planning, but you know it's not going to work. Nothing you've ever done—"

"Oh, that's where you're deliciously _wrong_, my darling." I sit down on my bed, my head starting to feel that unwelcome throbbing. I can just see him smirking on the other line.

"Quit playing games, Papperman. This isn't fucking middle school anymore."

"No, it's not. This would never work in middle school." He sounds smug and suddenly that feeling in my stomach intensifies tenfold. What is he planning on doing with that picture? "Luckily for you two, Briarwood takes up quite a bit of time from my schedule. It is such a shame you aren't here to enjoy it with me, Carly." I look at Sam to silently thank her for sabotaging my interview. I think she understood because she smirks back at me.

"Carly would rather lick a toilet seat than go to any school with you, little boy," Sam retorts. Honestly, I would rather do neither if at all possible.

"I believe licking disease-ridden items is your department, _Samantha_." He bites out her name like it's a curse and I have to bite my lip to stop from verbally lashing out. Keep cool. Keep cool.

Sam growls. "Listen you little jerkoff, we better be getting that picture back if you know what's good for you. We're not going to sit here and take this shit." She's shaking so I put my hand on her arm and it helps calm me down more than her.

"One day, you'll see, Carly will come knocking on my door—!"

"Yeah, asking for directions to someone else's house." Sam rolls her eyes.

"You should be nicer, Samantha. Remember…I have something of yours." He hung up and I was left with a bad taste in my mouth. Sam threw the phone against the wall.

She sits next to me on my bed and she looks angry and confused, but at least her face isn't red anymore. We're silent for a while and she clenches and unclenches her fists like she always does when she's upset and thinking. I want to reach out and hold her hand and tell her everything will be okay but I don't. My stomach still hurts and I can't help but shake the feeling that it will only get worse. This is, after all, just the beginning.

"I feel stupid." I sigh and rest my aching head on Sam's shoulder.

She scoffs. "Carly, we all know you're good enough for Briarwood."

"Not that. I feel stupid because we spent the last half hour arguing with a fifteen-year-old boy on the phone." She's probably smiling, but I can't tell because my eyelids suddenly became too heavy to keep open. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate photo booths."

A/N: I'm looking for a beta-reader to help me out with this story (someone who specializes in grammar). If anyone is interested please PM me.


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